


What You Need

by Shoshanna Gold (shoshannagold)



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-27
Updated: 2009-07-27
Packaged: 2017-10-06 14:46:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoshannagold/pseuds/Shoshanna%20Gold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a work of fiction based on the characters in the HBO miniseries. Written for Porn Skirmish 2009.</p>
    </blockquote>





	What You Need

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction based on the characters in the HBO miniseries. Written for Porn Skirmish 2009.

Nate heard Brad come up behind him in the dark. He didn't move as Brad's arms came around him, circling his waist, one of Brad's hands taking hold of Nate's cock.

"Brad," Nate said, looking for the words. There were too many things to say right now.

_I'm sorry I passed down the free-fire order._

I'm your commanding officer and if you have a problem, you come to me.

Don't you dare ever spend the day hiding under your humvee again, it fucks with moral, especially mine.

Are you sure that town is 40 klicks out, because nothing could survive the serious shock and awe the Air Force is dropping.

But Brad was out from under his victor, there was no turning back the Air Force bombers now, and Nate seriously had to piss. He settled for the obvious. "This isn't a jack."

"I know." His hand, however, didn't move from Nate's dick, his other hand fitted under his MOPP suit to rest on low on Nate's belly, his warmth bleeding through Nate's t-shirt.

Nate tried again. "Then what the fuck – "

"I think you know." Brad rubbed his belly, his touch gentle but firm, and Nate's body ached for release as his bladder fought against his will.

"It's not safe."

"Shhh." Brad's breath ghosted across Nate's neck, warmed his cheek. "Just let go, Nate."

Nate. Not Fick, not LT, not Sir. A wave of emotion swept over Nate, too many feelings for him to register at once. Still, it seemed like too much, what Brad wanted of him, until he realized that this wasn't about Brad taking, but giving. This was, at some primal level, a chance for Nate to feel safe. Accepted. Cared for.

Cherished.

He relaxed, leaning back into Brad and closing his eyes as he let go of his bladder. Brad held him steady as piss streamed out of him. His touch was different than Nate's own, the grip strange compared to his own practiced hold, lending new awareness to something Nate usually did without second thought. For a moment, Nate let go of everything: the clusterfuck of command, the possible end of his career in the services, the worry for his Marines that was eating him from the inside out. Sensation trumped thought in that moment; there was nothing more than the arms around him, the hands holding him as he shared himself in a way he never had before.

When Nate was finished, Brad carefully wiped the head of his soft dick with his thumb. He shook the piss off of himself before tucking Nate back into his MOPP suit; his sure hands made adjustments so that Nate was as comfortable as though he'd done it himself. His arms stayed around Nate, his hands clasped together over Nate's lower abdomen, and he tucked his head into the crook of Nate's shoulder.

"Thank you, Brad."

He felt rather than saw Brad's smile, but there was no need to imagine the soft kiss Brad pressed into his neck. "Thank you, sir."

Nate reached up without looking back, as though he knew where he ended and Brad began, and touched Brad's cheek, stroked down the line of his neck, before resting his hand over Brad's and nestling back into his chest.

They stayed like that, still and quiet in the dark, until the sounds of the camp grew closer, the echo of footsteps in the desert coming too close for it to be a good idea for them to remain so.


End file.
